Lost in Love in the Outback

He did it, the Aussie, he slipped. So, tonight we're having our normal conversation, thinking it will be brief and relatively interrupted, I'm pleasantly surprised with the length of our conversation and how much time we can spend actually getting to know each other. We go through the typical Q & A session that I seem to have perfected in my search for the master of my heart. He passes each question with ease and hands back some of my strange humor. He's fighting back tit for tat and I'm not coming up with anything that will stump this one. Then just as our conversation is ending, he, in his cunning and absolutely irresistable accent, slips. He tells me he loves me. And although I should be astonished, I'm not simply because I'd nearly said it myself a few times. The thing is, I can't possibly love him, I've not known him long enough for that and I've fought feeling anything for him for a million reasons including the 1/2 a world away factor. Damn him for trying to sneak into my heart and make things so complicated! I've been trying to shake this one for a while, irresistable bastard. I'll hold off longer.

So, instead of lingering in this cloud of what could be, I call Aftershock hoping for another ab workout and a little pseudo love, but as I'm talking to him, I am again reminded that I'd just be annoyed in some fashion and that I should just let it rest at my memory of earlier in the week. I might call him this weekend though.